


Beneath The Mask

by TaigaKunaix



Series: Controlling Force [3]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Humor, Kissing, M/M, jigsaw jones lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 20:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20954111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaigaKunaix/pseuds/TaigaKunaix
Summary: Akaba’s position in football is only well demonstrated by those who are physically strong, though his appearance is enough of a formidable show of prestige. Hiruma admired the mystery of him, and those red eyes… and it inspired an odd idea that he took with him to Akaba's dorm room.Turns out that said mystery was hot enough for Hiruma to pester him the morning after.





	Beneath The Mask

**Author's Note:**

> This one is fairly simple lol.  
Hiruma has been thinking about Akaba's looks during practice. He can't help but want to know the secret behind those stunning red eyes.

Saikyoudai’s football field has been packed the entire day. All of the first stringers were doing practice routines throughout the afternoon until late at night, stopping thrice for refreshments, lunch and snacks. The geniuses of the Wizards were put in charge of manning the lower branches of the team; Yamato spotted the running backs, Ikkyu and Taka spotted the wide receivers and cornerbacks alike, Banba was with the linemen while Akaba spotted the fullbacks and halfbacks. Agon, since he was a utility player who never had the heart to stoop down in order to teach ‘a load of trashes how to be like him’, sat on the benches and lazed around up until the first stringers would initiate their own practice routines.

The first string of the Saikyoudai Wizards utilized _ top of the line, genius _ plays that literally nobody else on the roster can execute as perfectly as the Four Horsemen: Agon, Yamato, Akaba, and Taka, respectively, were the unstoppable power kegs of the team. All four of them can easily serve as two or more positions in one game, and all four of them were the ones that took touchdowns for the team the most. Nobody moved as gracefully any of them, and Hiruma, being the hawkeye captain of the unstoppable Wizards, knew this far too well.

It was… actually a lot more difficult than he thought, dealing with a team filled with _ actual _ geniuses that had abilities matching up to his intelligence. It was their 2nd year, he still had trouble keeping up with them, but it was easy to act like they were untraceable. _ He _ was the one who deduced their plays, after all.

Sitting on a bench away from Agon cleaning his rifle, Hiruma scanned the field. It was now dusk, and all the big dogs were practicing amongst each other, which finally got Agon off of his bored ass to join in. The quarterback had his eyes on a particular person, the obviously eye-catching one out of the 2nd year liege, as said redhead stepped over a bunch of tires and still managed to practically _ clothesline _Banba’s incoming tackle. The smaller red eyed ace acted as a receiver, catching the ball launched from Mamori’s football catapulting machine and easily sliding over the rough bodied Agon due to his easy anticipation.

Everybody knew that if it weren’t for Akaba’s lesser form, or if he were built like Kakei or Shin, the tight end/fullback would have been completely _ invincible. _ Not even Yamato’s speed, Agon’s versatility, or Banba and Jumonji’s tag-team battering ram capabilities could stop the Red Eyed Ace, as he already seen how they’d play _ many _ times over. His insane understanding of bodily physics was the reason why people regarded him as arguably the _ best _ tight end in the league, not many people could forge such a reputation in a position like that.

Hiruma slowed his wiping down to watch Akaba walk down the field, giving Yamato a wrist dap. The two just completed a combination play that required the entire defense line in order to execute. Even with big bodies in tow, the duo pulled off their play effortlessly, as anything was possible with the architectural underdog. Blue eyes narrowed, scrutinizing that sweating neck and those sweating arms, wondering why that mask of his was even _ needed _ . Yes, Akaba did wear a mask, one that came in the form of blue shades and an uncrackable straight face. Hiruma has seen him smirk a few times, rather giving a really lazy looking curve of his lips, one that would make others wonder if he ever used at least half of his face muscles in his entire life. Aside from his stoic features, Akaba had a deep, smooth voice that was _ just as cold _ as his foretelling eyes. To the lesser strings and everyone else that wasn’t in their close circle, Akaba was scary-looking, but amongst their first string, they knew that Akaba was any other human being who was… _ just as _ dangerously analytical as Hiruma.

It made Hiruma wonder… whether or not those red eyes were real, and if they weren’t, what was the reason for Akaba to wear them in the first place?

It made him curious, vibrant red irises like those were not natural, or rather really rare to come by. Though they were so normal to see for the blonde, that he hadn’t thought anything of it until now. He could have explored them the last time they went out, when he had his evening skirt on, but it didn’t cross his mind back then. Their last date ended somewhat abruptly even though they went where they were supposed to, and ended how they should have. Hiruma, annoyed as fuck, forfeited plans on dragging Akaba into his apartment for a round two, especially because it took him an entire car ride to be certain that he can _ walk _straight. 

That's… Kind of what he gets for perturbing the_ copulative rhythm of their melody, _or whatever dumb, Broadway musical shit the Red Eyed Ace would say. 

It was getting very late, practice was coming to an end. Rallying everyone up was easy to do when you have both a loud voice, _ and _ an AK47 in your arms. Hiruma shot at the sky. "Settle down, _ idiots!" _ He stopped using the term 'ladies' after high-school. _ None _ of these first stringers played like the Devil Bats, they were all _ leagues _ ahead of his highschool stunt-team. "Finish off with 20 laps around the field!" 

"Didn't we do thirty laps when we first started practice?" As expected, Taka was the first one to _ gently complain. _

"Yes you all did, Fucking Rapunzel." Hiruma grinned. "_ Just _ thirty, plus another twenty equals fifty, which is what we _ normally _ do to start our routines. Have you fucking forgot? _ Kekekeke… _" 

They should have _ known _ something was up the moment Hiruma dialed their cardio exercise back a full twenty laps. Jumonji looked to exasperatedly straight face. "You tired us out all afternoon, and now that it's nighttime you make us run again?" 

"Fucking trash planned this shit way ahead." Agon crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "We're all tired shitless, trash _ Blondie _."

"You should be twenty laps _ less _ tired, Fucking Dread! I won't repeat myself!" Somehow his hand switched out a Ruger shotgun, blasting bullets up in the air to startle everybody. "Get _ moving, _ idiots, or I'll shoot your asses _ dead!" _

The first stringers went right on with running laps, not wanting to taste lead over their exhausted sweaty skin. Somewhere between the eighth and ninth lap, Yamato slowed to run in line with Taka, who literally looked like he could eat an entire book right now. 

"Taka," Yamato smiled dashingly at him, teeth almost lighting up the track, "Are you going straight to your dorm after this?" 

"_ Yes _." Taka almost cut him off, emphasizing his answer with a big nod. “I was reading Fight Club and left off on a cliffhanger, after this I’m heading back and finishing that chapter.”

Typical Taka, practically _ glued _ to the book he reads. In some ways, he and Akaba were very alike, which is ironic because the two rarely ever exchanged words whenever the trio would hang out. Yamato chuckled it off. “You wouldn’t want to read at a cafe instead?”

“What cafe is open at eleven at night?” Taka’s brown eyes dimmed with his straight face. “Hmm? _ Tell me.” _

“Okay, well not a _ cafe _ but like, I dunno…” Yamato shrugged. “A diner or something. There are a few nearby that are open ‘till two in the morning.”

Taka made a sound that meant he was weighing his options, Yamato knew this. Not only did he want to read, Taka was also hungry, so the idea of getting some good grub while reading his book sounded promising, but at the same time, he didn’t want to socialize. 

The receiver groaned as if he were suddenly forced to weave lawn clippings into a basket. “_ Fiiine, _ I’ll go with you. But I gotta get my book first.” He raised a finger to Yamato, they both crossed the track line marking their ninth run. “If you try to gossip with me, I’m tuning you out.”

“I don’t even _ gossip _, what are you talking about?”

Clearly, Taka paid little attention to the shit Yamato says whenever he was nose deep in a page, so he poorly assumed Yamato would just start gossiping, even though Yamato doesn’t gossip. What a good friend _ he _ is. “I dunno, you just talk a lot when we hang out.”

“That’s the _ point _ of hanging out.” Yamato’s brown eyes narrowed close to Taka. “You know what just-... meet me at my dorm and we’ll head out. How about that?”

Another sigh, Taka turned his attention to the track ahead of them. He was always really quick when it came to changing out of his sportswear. “Fine then.”

Ikkyu and Jumonji were both on the same lap as them, with Banba closing in on finishing his eighth. A little ahead of them, but way ahead on the lap reps were Agon and Akaba. The dreaded utility player was behind Akaba, they both finished their fourteenth lap. Running faster than the rest just to get it over with, everyone thought they were secretly racing one another. Hiruma eyed the two with mild interest.

“Guitar trash.”

Two simple words prompted Akaba to slow his pace, seeing how Agon _ too _, was more than ready to be finished with practice. In Akaba’s case, he just wanted to sit in his dorm and play his guitar. He had a feeling Yamato would spend the night out, which left him in some musical peace for an hour or two. He turned his head in the direction of the other genius. “Agon.”

Agon caught up to Akaba’s jogging pace, looking the redhead up and down. “_ Kukuku, _you look to be in a hurry.”

Agon never really got along with Akaba. The two never interacted with each other aside from casual plays, and the utility player addressed him just like he would anyone else albeit less so, since he did acknowledge Akaba’s talent. The fullback entertained a smirk. “_ Fuu… _ It would be taxing not to be.” They both were in the same pace. How _ unexpected… _ “These late hours would be suited to forging new rhythms.”

Agon took that as an innuendo instead of Akaba innocently stating that he just wanted to riff out the night. “With your bitch?”

That put a slight pause on the leisure tune in Akaba’s head. It almost made him slow down considerably; he wasn’t expecting something like this to interest the likes of Agon, but then again… this was _ Agon _, the ‘biggest fuckboy of Saikyoudai University’. “I am not relishing that right now.”

“_ Sure _ , you aren’t. I know you’ve had ‘appointments’ for that before, you can't hide that from me.” Agon and he passed their fifteenth lap. A pair of blue eyes watched them specially, it was odd seeing them talk to each other. “Is she gonna be more than that, guitar trash?” Agon snickered. “ _ Kukuku _, with the way your back’s been looking lately, I’m sure she’s glued to you.”

That is _ so amusing _ considering the fact that… _ Hiruma _ was the one who gave him those scratches, and what Agon just said may be _ mildly _ correct about the blonde. Akaba didn’t know yet, the cadence between them was too obscure to conclude on that. “I wouldn’t parlay that.”

“Yes you would.” The dreaded man tilted his head. “You and her are gonna be a thing.”

Red eyes blinked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re acting like a new man, _ kukuku.. _.” Agon smirked at him knowingly. “Just banged a good chick and now you’re probably planning on keeping her around, aren’t you?”

“_ Fuu… _” Akaba looked forward. He was amused. “I won’t say any more on the matter.”

“Why keep it a secret, huh?”

“What is in the sheets is not set in stone.” Akaba closed his eyes, his musical reference purposely was a double entendre. “Whether or not our symphonies will continue is not my place to judge. At least, not yet.” 

He quickened his pace, going further than Agon, leaving him to settle on that response with a light chuckle. “_ Kukuku… _”

The first few to finish would go to the locker rooms on their own to freshen up. When Taka realized this, he started picking up the pace and ended up becoming the third one finished, taking a quick shower, bagging up his football gear, and changing into casual clothing before both Akaba and Agon. Agon was next to be done, with Yamato coming in third and Akaba fourth. As soon as the entire team had finished their laps, Hiruma entered the locker room. 

He was manning this one on his own, since he had sent Mamori out to scout for new information on the other college teams. The manager was probably fast asleep, he knew her task was a whole lot of work. The woman needed rest.

“Gather around, idiots!” The quarterback settled the chatter down with a single pistol shot (which again, came out of nowhere) in the air. “The fall season’s closing in on us, it won’t be long before we’ll be facing a bunch of other teams, and taking our asses down to the finals. So from now on, we’re kicking our routines up a notch!” Hiruma situated the pistol facing upwards now, a hand plastered on his hip and turning away from the twenty two individuals while addressing the genius squad. “You five: Dreadhead, Red-Eye, Rapunzel, Wild Hair, Baldy… I’m putting _ you five _ in charge of tightening the lesser end of our first string team. The five of you will be holding your earlier positions up until the playoffs, and if I don’t see even a _ modicum _ of improvement in any of you, especially you _ first year babies _ ,” Hiruma cocked his pistol, giving blaring eyes to the only four freshman in the locker room right now, excluding Jumonji and Yamato, “I’ll make _ all of you _ shit lead through your throats! _ Got that?! _”

They shook like rattles while they nodded scarily. The second year group was used to this mess, so they just chuckled off their pansiness. The entire first string was dismissed afterwards, Taka and Agon being the first to leave with Ikkyu and Jumonji following second. Akaba had already changed into a simple sweater and some sweatpants because he’s _ totally _ staying his ass in his dorm for the night and not going anywhere else. His guitar, sitting by the wall a few meters from him, was _ calling _ to him all day. His fingers twitched.

He closed his locker and felt like the rhythm in the room became centralized. It wasn’t like the other teammates were looking at him, but the volume of a single _ person’s _ presence was enough to offset the anticipation in Akaba for a moment. Though, as far as he knew, Hiruma was taking himself into the showers. The quarterback always changed away from the others, normally he’d be the first one in here just so he wouldn’t need to migrate. He was the _ last _ one to enter the locker room, which was odd… And he didn’t say anything noteworthy to Akaba ever since their last date, which is _ odd _.

_ Ah _, now he understood; there was one melody playing, as the other components to his tune diminished, all that was left was a softer, relaxed dynamic. It was an odd mix between a major seventh and a lower ninth, that would spell confusion at least until Akaba picked up his guitar case and left the clubhouse without a word.

_ Curiosity _ . Akaba’s brows raised in epiphany, realizing what those two chords meant. _ There is curiosity present in his vibe. _

Choosing to dismiss it, Akaba later found himself opening the door to his dormitory. Yamato’s bed was slightly scrambled because the running back had left to spend the night with Taka at a nearby diner, that much was shown from the text message he received from him while he walked here. Unzipping his guitar case and sitting on his bed, he immediately relaxed his fingers against the strings now that he was alone, and nothing could bother him out of playing tunes and riffs. Reciting a freestyle piece from memory, his ampless guitar filled the room with expertly varying acoustics, all depending on the way the world around him revolved. It was pure bliss, to be alone at night with nobody else nearby. It reminded him of his days in highschool, which seemed like so long ago, when he’d come home and lock himself in his room after practice, just playing his guitar until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Fingers slowed upon coming to an immediate slowdown, a _ ritenuto _ , upon impulse. Akaba opened his eyes, he ended off with a quiet cadence before putting his guitar down and standing up. The only reason he did so was because he heard _ one _ knock coming from his door, though he didn’t think anything of it until he realized how _ odd _ it was for somebody to only knock _ once _. The redhead opened the door and scanned the halls.

Nobody was there. The hallway was literally empty. He turned to his far right, where the open lobby of his floor was. There were a few students there, but he knew none of them. The Saikyoudai roster knows better than to disrupt someone like _ Akaba _ late at night. Hell, the geniuses of the football team were known to be reckoned peers, so they get the utmost respect (or fear) from other students.

A note was pulled down and brought back up. The fullback blinked twice; he was a little thirsty.

He took his dorm lock and exited the room, locking it in the process. The lobby was not too far from his and Yamato’s dorm, though the vending machines were not near the dormitory hall, they were by the elevators. He went directly to them, not minding the other students in the process. Taking out his cash, he opted for a simple bottle of strawberry flavored water, watching the bottle slide down its conveyor before dropping to the pickup slot. He crouched to get the bottle, but his red eyes narrowed for a moment.

_ Phantom notes _ , he pinpointed; there was something _ weird _ about the air around him.

Taking his bottle and turning around to walk out of the lobby faster than he came in, Akaba twisted the cap and took a sip. His fingers itched, more tunes were awaiting his guitar and if he wanted to, he could make haste to sit on his bed and quell the eager pull of his mind. Once he was within sight of his door, he suddenly stopped, the tune in his head paused too as he took into account the rhythm of his surroundings.

Oh _ great _ , something is off-beat _ again, _and he could feel it in his gut. Akaba shook the feeling off, facing his dorm door with an open cadence.

Keys went into his doorknob, and he twisted the knob to unlock his door. Akaba immediately locked eyes with his guitar but _ froze _ ; not because of his beloved instrument sitting on his bed, in the same place he left it on, but there was _ somebody currently on his bed _ right in front of it. The unmistakable blond hair, blue eyes, and skinny frame hiding beneath a black sweater and tight black jeans… all parts to the canvas of chaos and syncopation.

“Well, _ well,” _ The quarterback gave him the biggest, creepiest grin he could muster, hand slipping underneath Akaba’s pillow. “If it isn’t the guitar freak himself, _ kekeke _…”

A long pause preceded them. Akaba looked from his guitar, to his previous seat where Hiruma was propped against, to the floor, to the door, and then to Hiruma. “How…?”

“I made a duplicate of your dorm’s keys.”

Akaba blinks three times _ very judgmentally _ , mostly because Hiruma was sitting right by his guitar. Nobody has the balls, or is dumb enough, to do that in the presence of the fullback. He rolled a sigh with a shake of his head, smartly closing his door and locking it again. “ _ Fuu… _ are you aware of where you’re at right now? How did you even know I’d leave my room?”

Hiruma brandished his laptop, which was conveniently right behind him. He tapped the exterior with a finger and Akaba understood immediately, the quarterback probably tampered with the security camera feeds while he was at it too.

“Why else would I be sitting on your bed, genius?” Hiruma laughed at him, almost beratingly. Akaba tore his gaze from the blonde down to his guitar. “_ Kekeke _, come closer. Why are you standing all the way over there like a fucking statue? I’m not gonna bite you.”

Akaba did, but only toward his guitar, and when Hiruma saw this he placed a single finger on the strings while looking up at the fullback. As expected, Akaba stopped to look at him, analyzing the quarterback’s odd pace. Nothing in Hiruma’s tune pointed to wanting another symphony, but the earlier major sevenths were progressively getting louder. The pampered finger left the strings but as it did so, it strung one of them. It was the thickest string, an _ E _ note.

“_ Fuu _…” Akaba stood up straight. “What brings you here then? Curiosity leaks out of your rhythm.”

“I’m just a little intrigued.” Hiruma crossed his arms and lounged back on Akaba’s pillow. “Everyone’s spending the night out, and you’re cooped up in your room by yourself.”

“I found no reason to be out tonight.” Akaba finally sat and took his guitar, resting it in its normal position. He closed his eyes and started strumming from the lowest dynamic possible, balancing out the melodies in his brain. “I’d rather stay here most of the time anyways. The music chimes high today.”

“_ Kekeke, _ you’re just a hermit. That’s all.” Hiruma sat up and shifted on all fours, tilting his head near Akaba’s face. He eyed the fullback’s face; Akaba was good-looking, that’s for sure, especially when he looked as relaxed as he does in his ‘happy space’, as Hiruma calls it. The tune he was playing sounded so peaceful and quiet, it was pleasing to the ears, just like how his face was pleasing to the eyes.

At least… when his fear-inducing red _ eyes _ are closed.

“Fucking Red Eye…” Hiruma ignored the calm music coming from Akaba. When he didn’t get any response he poked the fullback’s bicep, his sharp nail making the fullback tense. “What’s up with your eyes, hnn?”

Instead of taking the bait, Akaba answered his question in the most _ obvious way possible _. He furrowed his brow and paused his strumming. “They are closed.” He continued playing right afterwards.

“No _ shit _, they’re closed.” Hiruma almost flicked him in the face. “Open them.”

A few seconds of quiet notes passed before Akaba finally opened his eyes. Red irises went to the blonde, and when he realized Hiruma was staring into them he stopped playing completely. The fullback blinked, lashes fluttering nicely over those fearsome eyes. 

Hiruma sat back, tilting his head and shifting to rest on his side, propping his upper body on an elbow. The bottom of his stomach was exposed, his blue eyes narrowed at Akaba’s red ones. “Take them off.”

_ Ah _ , Akaba figured it out; Hiruma was trying to see if Akaba’s pupils would dilate. Wearing contacts, it was harder to see a pair of pupils contract or expand, sometimes it wouldn’t be visible at all, but Akaba’s contacts were of excellent quality so they looked almost _ too _ real. All it took was a closer look, like what Hiruma just did, to indicate that they were indeed fake.

“Why?” Akaba wasn’t defensive, but he didn’t know what the point of removing his contacts entailed. The only time he needed to do so was when he had to sleep, and the only person who has seen hs actual eyes aside from his family, was Yamato. The running back came to witness them back in his days at Teikoku.

“Because I said so.” Hiruma smirked. “You afraid that your actual eyes are too ugly? _ Kekeke, _ is that why you wear those bright ass contacts?”

“I have no problem with my natural eyes.” Akaba shook his head. 

Hiruma scooted closer to Akaba. “Then why wear contacts?”

Two blinks, and then he turned his head with a smirk while closing his eyes. “Aesthetics.”

For such a fearsome appearance, coupled with a cold, emotionless demeanor, he means to tell Hiruma that the reason for _ all _ the red on his person was for _ aesthetics. _ What an easy answer, if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes were enough to shake a freshman out of their boots.

“_ Aesthetics? _ ” Hiruma eyed him with a look. “ _ That’s _ it?”

Akaba nodded. He played a different tune.

Hiruma laughed. “_ Kekeke, _ you’re a freakish motherfucker, you know that? You’ve had little lower classmen pansies peeing themselves anytime you look at them over the past six years, all for fucking _ aesthetics _ . _ Kekekeke… _” The blonde inhaled. “Do you sleep with them on too, guitar freak?”

Akaba shook his head. “I only take them off when I am ready to sleep.”

Hiruma eyed him for a little longer. Akaba can feel a different tune coming from him. “When are you gonna sleep?”

“_ Fuu…” _ The redhead was _ really _ close to smirking at that, _ impatient, are we? _ “Not now.”

“Well, forfeit that rule.” Hiruma sat up and got considerably close to Akaba, breaching his personal space unapologetically. “I wanna see them. Take the contacts off.”

Akaba looked at him. He repeated himself. “Why?”

“Because I want to fucking see them! Take the damn contacts off.” Hiruma notioned wildly, getting annoyed. “It won’t be a big deal, Fucking Wild Hair has seen them before. It’ll be _ our little secret _ , _ kekeke… _” Hiruma moved in on him when he said that, almost seductively. Akaba shifted away, but did oblige to his wishes, putting his guitar down and standing up to take his contact case off of the nightstand.

The quarterback wondered what would be waiting underneath those fake irises. He betted on them being brown, just like pretty much everybody he has seen on the streets. A normal color, he figured, because underneath all the dramaticness of Akaba’s appearance he was a _ normal _ man, right? He just hid that underneath his elaborate music sense and his physical ‘aesthetics’. Hiruma watched him, Akaba had turned his back to him so the quarterback could not see the process. He almost snickered; even taking them _ off _ had to be a secret? Geez, Fucking Red Eye was such a weirdo. Akaba had picked up the case, applied eye drops to keep both his contacts hydrated, and set them down. He looked downwards, and then turned around to face the quarterback whose sneer literally fell from his sharp features.

Akaba’s eyes were not the usual deep or dark brown. They were super light, warm peanut hued and it brought out his pupils drastically. From this particular angle, with him looking down at the quarterback, they looked to be a very pale brown. Hiruma stood up, caught off guard, though he approached Akaba with a mostly impartial facial expression to get a better look at those eccentric eyes.

Oh… 

His eyes actually weren’t one color, they were _ two _ ; his irises had _ flecks _ of green in them that complimented his red hair way too well. Now that he was in front of Akaba, his eyes looked to be the closest a human being could _ possibly _ get to hazel. _ Oh... _

Oh _ god _ , was Hiruma wrong in his taunts; Akaba looked _ strikingly _ different without his contacts, and it was a difference that Hiruma did not immediately adapt to upon seeing them. Hiruma tilted his head, slightly frowning, his eyes didn’t look bad at all. They looked stunning, _ hot _…

The imagery of Akaba on top of him, fucking him real good with those brown-green eyes looking down on him made Hiruma’s navel jump.

The fullback registered Hiruma’s gaze; his eyes were a _ turn on _ for the blonde. “ _ Fuu… _” he closed them. “Do you take a liking to them, Hiruma?”

The blonde blinked, and then looked Akaba up and down. “They look alright.” He shrugged and went back to Akaba’s bed to sit down. “I was expecting something extravagant, but apparently that wasn’t born on you, Fucking Red Eye.” 

Akaba closed his eyes, he was not hurt by that statement. He was amused, because it was a whole ass _ lie _. He took his water off of his nightstand and drank, placing it back down and going to sit and play his guitar again. As he walked over to his bed, Hiruma eyed his face; he was scanning him, observing…

More than likely _ admiring _ him too.

Several minutes of Akaba playing his guitar in silence passed. Hiruma tapped his nails against the nightstand once he randomly proclaimed: “Put your guitar down and go to sleep. You wouldn’t want to be tired for your benchmark test, Fucking Red Eye.”

The benchmark tests were run throughs every string had to do, it was a way to track the roster’s progress over the years. The first part was done in the weight room, with one-repetition weight lifting tests, followed by a 40-yard dash. This is all the first stringers required, the lower setups would need to do more tests than that.

Akaba blinked. “My benchmark isn’t until next week.” 

_ Just _ as he said that, his phone vibrated, signaling that he got a message. He looked to his drawer and took the device, flipping it open and looking at the message with progressively slower blinks:

**Hiruma: Your benchmark test has been changed to tomorrow morning. At 10:30 ** ** _sharp_ ** **, Fucking Red Eye. **

The fullback frowned at his phone screen, Hiruma’s grin grew wider as the other male slowly turned to him. So… this interaction too, was planned. Akaba tilted his head. “This was queued?”

The blonde stood up with his laptop tucked under an arm. He was heading to the door. “It was, _ kekeke _ …” Hiruma twisted the door knob. “Be prepared for tomorrow, Fucking Red Eye. You better not be going soft on me, _ kekeke _…” His last laugh had an odd twinge of sex appeal, his choice of wording purposely hinted at a double entendre. Akaba watched as the blonde slipped out of his room, closing the door and leaving him alone with his guitar.

The music tonight has gone back to normal. He picked up his guitar, sighed to himself, and continued playing as if nothing happened. Yamato returned later that night, Akaba had put away his guitar once the running back entered and situated himself to sleep. Slipping his legs underneath his blanket, he laid on his side, facing away from Yamato and towards his nightstand. His eyes looked to the contact case before they closed.

His pillow held faint traces of hair gel, gunpowder and cigarettes.

* * *

The next morning, the fullback’s brain immediately tuned in to the atmosphere of his dorm, a sense of sultry jazz came over him. He shifted and inhaled sweetly over the nice music of the morning, stretching his arms and legs before opening his eyes to see Yamato’s side of the room. The clock on his friend’s dresser read 9:15 in the morning, and Akaba smoothed a hand into his tousled hair. Swinging the sheets over his legs, he turned his body to the right to get up, looking at his phone and reaching for his contact case.

Except the contact case wasn’t there.

He had literally paused with a hand hovering over his nightstand, the fullback blinked twice and then sat up completely. He shifted the lamp and moved his shades even though they obviously were not in the way; it wasn’t like he placed them in one of the nightstand’s drawers, he always left them out in the open of his room since nobody other than Yamato comes here. Besides, the case itself looked more like a compartment for a handkerchief rather than eye contacts, so nobody was none the wiser unless they knew him.

He stood up, and then an odd look came over his face. Once it did, his phone signaled a new message. Surprised that things were in sync _ despite _ his missing contacts, he opened it and immediately pinned the culprit before he even read the message.

**Hiruma: Come a little early and you’ll get a special prize, Fucking RED EYE! **

The fullback’s lips pursed; Hiruma must have snuck in here late at night and stole them, that _ sneaky _ devil…

Akaba undressed, took a morning shower, and came out of his bathroom drying his hair with a towel, the other was wrapped around his waist. He went to his sport duffel bag and fished out his clean compressors, his jersey, and his cleats. Brown-hazel eyes glazed over at his guitar; there was no class for him today, so he could just come back here and strum off the whole day. Hiruma not only managed to steal his contact case, but he planned on Akaba having his benchmark test today _ just _ so he could absolve the mystery behind his appearance. Now Akaba _ had _ no other choice but to go to the football field just to retrieve his contacts. He could imagine Hiruma laughing to himself in the football club, just waiting for the fullback to put his pants on and-

He had to stop right there. Akaba was completely naked, but he stood up straight and then looked around the room. Hiruma was probably spying on him _ right now _. 

Akaba still wasn’t rushing to get his clothes on. The quarterback had already seen him naked anyways.

By the time he was out the door, duffel bag and guitar case in tow with his shades on, it was 9:45. The walk to the football field took another fifteen or twenty minutes, but Akaba used that time to eat something instead. He went to the cafeteria and bought himself a salad with another bottle of water.

He reached Saikyoudai’s football field by 10:20, where he could see cones lining the first 40 yards of the field, as well as a bunch of tires placed together like a lattice, and cones going around in the standard 505 test setup. The weight room was open, and the football clubhouse was also open, Akaba didn’t need to guess which building the captain of their team was in, he could tell by the way the air drifted around them. Approaching the clubhouse, he placed his duffel bag down and gently rested his guitar case on the wall. As expected, Hiruma was there, sitting in his seat with the laptop in front of him.

“Ten minutes early, guitar freak.” He sneered at him, circling a sharp finger on the table. “Nothing _ too _ special about that.”

Akaba still had his shades on. “_ Fuu…” _He tipped them upwards, so that they were sitting on the bridge of his nose. “Your tune is especially bothersome today.” 

“_ Kekekeke _ …” Hiruma stood up. He was wearing his full football uniform, his jersey stopped just below his butt whenever he didn’t have any armor underneath. The blonde sauntered towards him. “And what are you gonna do about it? Hmm?” He took Akaba’s shades right off of his face, revealing those hot ass brown-green orbs. “Take this shit off. You’re indoors, _ genius _.”

Genius. The word he used derogatorily to _ only _ Akaba. If he used a moniker for the others, he’d just call them idiots, but not Akaba. He called Akaba a ‘genius’ like it was a bad thing, and for him it was because the fullback was such a _ bother _ to him. He was direct competition for Hiruma in terms of scheming and intelligence.

Akaba eyed his glasses in Hiruma’s hand; now there were _ two _ things he had to retrieve in one piece. “Put my shades down.”

“Does me holding them _ bother _ you?” Hiruma came real close this face, looking directly in his eyes. Their lips were centimeters away from one another, and Hiruma slipped a finger into the side of his pants, pulling something out that had been resting on his hip. He waved the item in Akaba’s face; it was his contact case. “Does me holding _ this _ bother you too? _ Kekeke… _”

Akaba’s eyes followed the case, and Hiruma backed away from him holding both items on his back. The fullback sighed vocally. “So this is the reason why you’d set forward my benchmark test?” Hiruma didn’t answer him, he just turned around and placed both of Akaba’s mainstays on his table, unguarded, out in the open. Akaba could literally take them given how fast he is, but to run after his shades and contacts would show a needless insecurity that he didn’t even have. It would serve as ammunition to the undulating, cacophonous blonde. All he did was take two steps towards the table, and he immediately heard a gun cocking to his left.

“Your test comes _ first _ , Fucking _ Moss _ Eyes.” What a mean way to describe his really attractive eye color. Brown and green when mixed did bare synonymy to moss. “Go do your runs, and maybe then you’ll get your precious little contacts and shades, guitar freak. _ Kekeke… _”

If Akaba really had the physical emotion to, he would roll his eyes, but all he did was inhale; he’ll abide by the quarterback because at least he gets to do his benchmark test earlier than he should.

They went into the weight room, which was completely empty; the pair were alone once more. Akaba took off his jersey, his compression sweater underneath, and did a few stretches to warm up his muscles. He then got up to set his weights on the bench press. Hiruma stood near him and watched the fullback place one full plate on each side, along with two twenty kilogram plates and a pair of fives. His last bench press was around 96 kilograms, or 211 pounds, and the weight he had put on now was twenty pounds more. Getting into position, spreading his legs and keeping his feet poised, he lifted the hefty barbell with ease and tightened his core, lowering it towards his chest and back up.

Hiruma walked slowly towards him. “One hundred and five kilograms. A _ lot _ better than your performance last time.” The quarterback noted all of this in his log book, where he kept all the records of every teammate in their football roster. Akaba sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. Hiruma went over to kick him on the calf. “Get up. You wouldn’t want me taking back the performance comment, would you? _ Kekeke _…”

Their next test was the squat. Akaba had surpassed his last record, at 256 pounds, by fifteen more pounds, now being able to squat a good 270. Hiruma noted his new stats, watched how easily he pulled himself up and _ especially _ watched how the fullback squatted. Blue eyes glazed over his glutes; Akaba… apparently he had a little bit of _ something _ down there. _ Aside from his dick, _ Hiruma tapped a finger against his bottom lip, Akaba’s butt wasn’t big or anything, but _ man _ did it have shape. Especially when he was arched like that, with those tight compressors on… _ Mmm, _ Hiruma’s tongue licked the tip of his finger as he smirked; maybe he should grab Akaba’s ass the next they fuck, it looked quite _ nice _ to leave nail marks on.

It took everything in the fullback’s _ soul _ to ignore the fact that there were eyes currently _ ogling and groping _his asscheeks.

His deadlift was by far the easiest to surpass; his last record was 290 pounds, and his current became 325. The captain added this to Akaba’s records, watching the fullback go over to the pulldown machine. He was _ impressed _. He watched Akaba lean over to set the weight up and admired how his bent over position accentuated his ass again.

Red hair disappeared for a moment before he came back up and sighed. “Do you really have to stare me down while I do this?”

“Less talking, more lifting, guitar _ freak _ .” Hiruma snapped his fingers. Akaba took the two handles and pulled down. His last record was 229 pounds, he capped off today at 240. His back muscles flexed real nicely under the pressure of his weights, deltoids and biceps framing his working physique. Hiruma approached him until he was several feet from Akaba; that back has, or _ should _ have, reminders of their last endeavor.

He felt the sudden urge to order Akaba to take his sweater off. He removed the inclination, recorded Akaba’s new weight threshold, and once the fullback released the pulldown handles Hiruma ran a nail down his spine.

The sensation immediately made Akaba sit up, back arched. He turned his head to Hiruma’s direction, and the quarterback laughed. “_ Kekeke, _ you mean to tell me you didn’t know I was right behind you?! Where has your awareness been, Fucking Moss Eyes? _ Kekeke... _”

“It’s still here.” Akaba closed his eyes, turning around and flexing his fingers. “I was ignoring you and your uppity rhythm for the most part.” He stood up and turned away from Hiruma, heading out of the weight room and going outside to do the last test; the 40-yard dash. He could hear Hiruma’s mocking laugh behind him; _ B Flat Minor _, Akaba deduced, a note filled with mockery and disparaging. 

He shared the same time in his 40-yard dash as Yamato; 4.4 seconds. He didn’t know specifics, but Hiruma did, and the quarterback mentally betted that Akaba would either stay the same or be slightly faster by even a _ thousandth _ of a second. Akaba readied himself, and Hiruma blew his whistle. He watched the fullback _ zoom _ through the yard lines, and clicked the stopwatch to look at his new record.

“_ Kekeke, _ Fucking Wild Hair’s got competition now.” He sneered, seeing Akaba approach him. He wrote it down. “ _ 4.442 _ seconds, thirty six _ thousandths _ of a second faster than your fucking boyfriend.”

He refers to Yamato as Akaba’s boyfriend for some odd reason. Not like it wasn’t something Akaba _ used _ to consider back in highschool, but they were literally so far apart in persona types that the redhead couldn’t see it. Of course, leave it to Hiruma to coin something out of proportion. “You kept note of _ every _ decimal regarding all of our speeds?”

“Of _ course _ I do.” Hiruma gave him a look. “Everyone is noted to the thousandths, but I am keeping a special eye on the Big Three.” He looked to the book; he was referring to the Wizard’s Full Stop Triad. “You, Agon, Yamato… the three of you are noted down to the _ millionths _.”

“_ Fuu.. _ .” He shook his head, but he understood the scrutiny. He too, used to be a captain; if anyone else on this team knew about exacts and _ absolutes _ , it’s him. Intricacy and analysis were key components to their understanding of the world. Hiruma even bought a more advanced stopwatch _ just _ to accomodate for the speedy triad. “What is my absolute recorded time then?”

Hiruma didn’t even need to look at the stopwatch, or his record book. “4 seconds and 44,213 _ millionths _ . Thirty six thousand and twenty one _ millionths _ of a second faster than Fucking Wild Hair. _ Kekeke… _ Maybe you should take his jersey and wear it throughout a game next time, you gypsy.”

“You’re more likely to wear another’s clothes after messing with them, Hiruma.” Akaba looked him over. Hiruma glared at him as expected.

“And what makes you think that, Fucking _ Moss Eyes _ ?” Hiruma cocked his head to the side, placing his full hands on his hips. “Talking out of your ass again? Don’t have any evidence to support your claim? _ Kekeke…” _

“I don’t need evidence. It is written in your rhythm.”

“You can’t _ write _ on a rhythm, you synesthete. Music is not something you can see.”

“It is not something _ you _ can see.” Akaba blinked at him. “I did not mean that literally. I should have expected figurative speech to go past you, as it usually does.”

A pistol was pressed to his chin. “You got a big fucking mouth. I’ll blow it right off if you keep talking smart, guitar freak.”

Akaba was not bothered. Hiruma, despite looking and sounding and acting crazy and violent, had never killed a person. Nothing in his vibe or his rhythm said anything about past murders or assaults on his own plight. His guns and his shootings were all for show, even if Akaba got on his last nerves, the most Hiruma can do is lightly bruise him. The quarterback was nowhere _ near _ as strong as him.

So instead of cowering in fear, he just tilted his head. “How am I supposed to engage in duets with you then?”

Hiruma was up in his face, the football field was completely empty. They were the only ones there. He liked getting up in Akaba’s face, they were both almost the same height so it perpetuated the competitive drive in Hiruma even more so than with Agon. Not only that, but the tension between them rose drastically when they went back and forth like this, the _ sexual _ tension of course. Especially with those hot ass eyes looking into his. Hiruma fought the urge to bite his bottom lip.

Hiruma ripped the pistol away from his chin, and told Akaba to go back into the clubhouse. The fullback complied quietly, not saying anything to Hiruma who was walking behind him. A coy tune was likened immediately; with Hiruma behind him, Akaba could easily go and grab his contacts and shades without having to hear anymore baseless prattle, and Hiruma wouldn’t be able to stop him. Being much faster and stronger than he is, he could dip away from Hiruma faster than he could whip out a random gun and-

_ No _ , he relented. Hiruma was behind him on _ purpose _, and it had everything to do with the way he was checking him out. Akaba ignored the sensual jazzy tune in the back of his head, even though its changing dynamic was inevitable. 

He opened the door to the football locker room, eyeing the table where Hiruma’s laptop was. His contact case and shades were not there. Hiruma had taken them with him.

The quarterback held onto Akaba’s jersey, which he took with him after they left the weight room. He tossed it on the bench. “What are you looking for, Fucking Moss Eyes? Can’t see where you are, huh? I didn’t think those contacts were prescriptions, _ kekeke _…”

The fullback looked really unimpressed. Hiruma went over to his table, dropped all of what he had, and sat down in front of him, legs closed with hands folded on his lap. His record book and stopwatch were on the right, and Akaba’s contact case and shades were on his left. Brown-green eyes blinked. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Don’t ask obvious questions, _ genius _.” He beckoned Akaba with a finger. “Come here.”

Akaba did, he approached the quarterback, seeing how Hiruma was looking into his brown-green eyes. The blonde grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him into a kiss, rough and messy, as his hands started running through Akaba’s red hair. The fullback laced his fingers against Hiruma’s hips, and the quarterback lowered a hand to Akaba’s contact case, flicking it out of Akaba’s reach. Without warning, he bit on Akaba’s bottom lip with his sharp canine tooth, making the fullback pull away with an audible wince.

“That was for last time, _ asshole _.” Hiruma’s nails were situated in his scalp. Akaba raised a finger to his lips to check if Hiruma had drawn blood. He didn’t, but he bit down hard enough for it to actually hurt.

Akaba looked from the annoyed quarterback to his contacts that were now on the other edge of the table, inches away from falling to the ground. “That happened a week ago. Forgetting a simple kiss is what led you to doing all of this?”

“_ No _ , I just wanted to know why you’re hiding those eyes from me.” Hiruma teased him. “Mr. _ Aesthetic _.”

“_ Fuu…” _ Akaba closed his eyes, looking downcast. “Your extravagance is unneeded. I already get enough from your rhythm alone.”

“Clearly, you haven’t gotten enough since we fucked in your car.” Hiruma glanced over his face. When Akaba opened his eyes, Hiruma had spread his legs to wrap them around Akaba’s waist, pulling the fullback closer to him. He leaned back, propping himself on his hands. “You need a _ reminder _ , Fucking Moss Eyes. _ Kekeke...” _

Akaba looked down at him, shaking his head. This was his cue, obviously. “Your lack of synchronization forges an unforgettable piece.” He leaned forward, Hiruma’s eyes showed a budding arousal. “It would be impossible to coordinate for a long time.”

They sauced up a deep kiss, meshing lips noisily before Hiruma pulled away. “_ Coordination _ doesn’t work for me, _ genius _.” Hiruma grabbed his collar and kissed him, running a tongue along his bottom lip. “I’m the one in charge here.”

Akaba pulled away for a split second. “_ Right _.” He kissed Hiruma again, and the quarterback immediately pushed his lips off.

“What?” He looked Akaba up and down. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Akaba blinked innocently. “I just said ‘right’.”

“Sure you fucking did, but what does that mean?”

“I was responding to you.” He tilted his head. “It could mean a multitude of things. How you choose to define it is up to you, not me. You _ are _ the one in charge, after all.”

Oh, _ this motherfucker… _ He spun the narrative back on him. Hiruma eyes narrowed dangerously. “Shut the _ fuck _ up, Fucking Moss Eyes.” He yanked him forward, they both cascaded into a heavy makeout session, Hiruma’s hands being less conservative in where they should lie as they went from drawing shapes on his torso, to digging in his pants within half a minute. The fullback smirked against Hiruma’s lips, he felt those hands disappear and heard Hiruma taking his own compressor pants off, sliding them over his skinny legs. Brown-green eyes trailed down to Hiruma’s legs, surprised to see that the quarterback had prepared himself before their test. His entrance was stretched and his hole was lubed enough for the fullback’s dick, which Hiruma tugged on his pants impatiently trying to yank it out before Akaba did so on his own.

He fucked the blonde against the table. Akaba watched Hiruma's face, the way he bit his lip and looked at his eyes, bucking forward roughly. This was a different tempo altogether, because Hiruma was being extremely pushy and violent knowing that Akaba was a little too modest to do him the way he would if they were truly in private. His nose rested on the crook of Hiruma’s neck, the quarterback cursing and moaning at him, pushing against Akaba until he came all over his own jersey. Akaba had leaned far forward, burying himself deep into Hiruma, while grabbing the contact case right off the edge of the table as well as his shades at the same time. 

His upper chest was in Hiruma's face. The quarterback's nails left his back when he saw the fullback stand up straight while holding up two items in his hand. “If this is what you consider as my prize, then… it’s always been mine.”

Instead of a snarky retort, the quarterback snorted, sitting up a bit and feeling the fullback pull himself out. He took off his jersey, it was stained with his release so he had to put on his black shirt. “Your prize was this _ ass _ , Fucking Moss Eyes.” Hiruma tilted his head at him. “ _ Kekeke…” _

Akaba forfeited the urge to smirk. It went right over Hiruma’s head. He fixed himself up, and went to retrieve his jersey. With closed eyes, he picked his guitar case off of the wall. “That’s what I meant.” 

There was an immediate silence right after that. Akaba opened the door to the clubhouse's entrance and left right then and there. Not even ten seconds into his exit, and a rubber bullet whizzed past his shoulder. He stopped and turned around to see the blonde aiming a little ahead of him, not directly _ at _ him. 

"One day I'm going to beat the shit out of you for that mouth of yours." Hiruma scowled at him. "Get out of my sight."

Apparently not giving a fuck about his own life, Akaba just shrugged. "That's what I was doing." He turned around again, not feeling another twinge in the early morning rhythm that indicated to Hiruma shooting at him again. The clubhouse door had been slammed shut right after. 

Akaba took himself back to his dorm, where he ran into Yamato who was heading out to breakfast. The fullback decided on skipping having a meal with him, fingers itched to play his guitar in peace. He opened the door to his room and took off his football paraphernalia. He did not work up too much of a sweat today, it wasn't hot out, so he skipped out on taking another shower. Changing into some sweats and a leisurely T-shirt, he pulled his guitar out and played while his mind trailed onto what happened not too long ago. He literally _ just _ had morning sex with the blonde, and he had a feeling Hiruma was brewing something up for him later on out of spite. It’s even more amusing when he took into account how _ easy _ the blonde was the moment he’d hit those right spots. Technically, to Akaba's knowledge, he wasn't _ wrong _ in his statement, right? 

He also didn't know Hiruma well enough to deduce whether or not if that was even _ true _ . His rhythm scored _ nothing _ on being a virgin, Akaba can tell it from the way he carried himself. Hiruma was not innocent, but strangely enough, any time Akaba took the reigns in their fuck sessions, he could hear very, very faint _ C Majors _ in their symphony. There was a level of _ naivety _ that Akaba could see during sex and anytime he poked fun at the blonde, knowing that they brought out those C Majors even more, Hiruma would be bitchy and prissy with him. 

He always thinks it's funny whenever Hiruma gets upset at him. Deep down, he knew the quarterback couldn't do shit because of their newfound coordination, though he still hasn't sensed a tune progression that pointed to the reason why Hiruma was engaging him like this more often, rather than just coldly making dick appointments with him. 

The fullback closed his eyes and played his guitar; he figured that the answer will come to him one day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I thought it'd be cool if Akaba had really light brown eyes only, but then I figured that something very close to hazel would suit him more. I hope you enjoyed this lol


End file.
